


sweater weather

by orphan_account



Series: Sugar Daddy AU [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Liam, Daddy Kink, M/M, Riding, Sugar Daddy AU, happy holidays everybody ziam is real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam shuffles his feet, digging his toes into the plush red carpet he picked out to match the pillows on the couch. “Well, you see, I had to buy my own materials for the project-” Zayn sighs annoyedly “-you know, the one I’m emotionally distraught over. Fragile, even.”</p><p>“A project I would’ve happily bought the materials for so you didn’t have to waste your weekly allowance?”</p><p>“It’s not a waste if it’s for education,” Liam insists sternly, as if he is the elder and Zayn is the financially irresponsible one in need of a lecture. Zayn remains stagnant, however, so Liam figures it's time to bring out the big guns. He pushes out his bottom lip and looks at Zayn from under his lashes. “Please, daddy?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweater weather

**Author's Note:**

> it's basically 2011 liam and 2014 zayn
> 
> [m tumblr](http://spani5h.tumblr.com)

By all accounts, Liam should be enjoying his day.

It is, afterall, a good day. He’s just handed in the final project he’s been working on for a solid three months and is finally free from the late nights at home alone with his mind and hands too occupied to handle outside distractions or anything remotely fun.

It also means he’ll be able to spend more time with his boyfriend, which is honestly the only motivation he has to not turn around and camp outside of his professor’s office and wait for his project to be graded.

Liam stops in his tracks and stands in the middle of the campus courtyard, digging his palms into his eyes, blocking out the sunlight and the rest of the world for a few seconds. It’s college, so no one’s really perturbed by his public breakdown. He takes another moment to clear his mind, then jerks his head as though his anxiety can be physically shaken off.

He knows that if he goes home now he’ll only end up stewing in his bad mood until Zayn gets off of work, so he hikes up the straps of his backpack and heads off towards the main road where he hails a taxi, asking the driver to take him into the city. He pays for the ride with the last of his weekly allowance and wishes the man a good day.

Harry shoots him a smile from the front desk and motions to the security guards to let Liam through to the elevators, an act that’s more of a courtesy now than anything considering how often he's here. Liam and the guard, Paddy, even share a discreet fist bump as he passes.

When the lift reaches Zayn’s floor, Liam shoves his hands deep in his pants pockets and trudges down the hallway, humming a tune that’s more than likely elevator music under his breath. He keeps his head down, still too upset to want to gaze out the windowed wall and admire the beauty of a top floor view.

Zayn isn’t in his office when Liam gets there, so he sighs and plops down onto the red leather couch situated against one of the walls. He grabs the decorative throw pillow then proceeds to smush it against his face and scream.

It’s more of a shout, really. Just a punch of air from his lungs but extremely therapeutic nonetheless. He pulls the pillow away from his face and examines the beautiful gold stitching that’s sewn into intricate carnations. He turns it over to the plain backside and screams some more. And some more. And some m-

“You know, we can just throw the pillows out if you don’t like them.” Liam draws back from the cushion again and narrows his eyes at his boyfriend’s slouching form. “Although, I wonder how that would attest to your interior decorating taste, consider you picked them out in the first place.”

Liam sighs and tosses the pillow aside. Zayn must notice his apathy because he closes the office door and slowly approaches the couch. “Bad day?” he asks, to which Liam makes a noncommittal noise and reaches out grabby hands, pulling Zayn to him by his blazer lapels.

Zayn, for his part, goes with it, letting his frumpy boyfriend crawl on top of him and burrow into his chest. He brings a hand up to card through Liam’s curls and keeps his voice soft when he reiterates, “Really bad day, then?”

Liam mumbles and picks at the buttons on Zayn’s dress shirt. Who cares if the threads come loose? Not Liam.

Zayn lets him go on like that for a few minutes, sitting in his lap and attempting to unravel his wardrobe. Liam’s grateful for his boyfriend’s patience. And his cologne. Liam presses his nose to Zayn’s shoulder and breathes in the scent that’s soaked into the fabric.

“You wanna talk about it?” Zayn tries. Liam mumbles under his breath again and Zayn brings up his free hand to rub Liam’s thigh soothingly. “Speak up, love. Can’t talk about it if I can’t hear what you say.”

Liam sighs heavily and tucks his head under Zayn’s chin, guaranteeing they won’t make eye contact. “I handed in my project today.”

“The one for your engineering class?” Zayn hums when he feels Liam nod beneath him. “Well that’s good, isn’t it? You can give up your hermit status. Hand in your membership card to the No Fun club. Maybe even breathe once in a while.”

Liam pulls away from his boyfriend’s chest to glare at him again, deflating almost immediately after meeting Zayn’s amused gaze.

The reappearance of Liam’s pout has Zayn tensing. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d be happy about getting this thing off your hands.”

“I am,” Liam assures him. “It’s just that...” he trails off, fingers finding their way back to fiddling with Zayn’s shirt.

Zayn takes the hand that was combing through Liam’s hair and gently places it over Liam’s smaller one. “It’s just what?”

“What if it’s not good enough?” Liam whispers finally.

“Baby,” Zayn sighs.

“No- okay, listen. It’s the final project. It’s worth forty percent of my overall grade for that class. Like, what if it’s just not what the professor is looking for? What if I missed some of the requirements? What if she grades it on a curve and I’m at the bottom of the curve Zayn what if I’m the curve caboose what if I never graduate just because I fucking forgot to tighten a screw or flick a switch or- _oh my god_ , did I even put my name on it-”

Zayn slaps a hand over his boyfriend’s mouth in hopes of cutting off his rant. It doesn’t work, however partial credit is due because he at least managed to muffle the seemingly endless stream of worries Liam’s got on the fast tracks of his mind.

He tries out a new method, removing his hand and replacing it with his lips. Liam doesn’t seem to mind his train of thought being derailed too much when Zayn presses his thumb into Liam’s jaw and forces his mouth open. He seems grateful even, if the low groan he lets out is any indication. Zayn sucks on the boy’s tongue lazily, humming approvingly when he feels some of the tension Liam’s locked himself up with bleed out of him.

“I hate it when you do that,” Liam mumbles against Zayn’s lips.

“What?” Zayn smirks. “Kiss you? Right, no more of that then. Can’t have you hating me.”

Liam flicks his nose in retort. Zayn grabs his hand before he can snatch it back and uses it to pull the boy closer so he can pepper his face with small, soft butterfly kisses.

“You know you’re amazing right?” Zayn says, his tone low and serious. He kisses Liam’s nose. “Absolutely brilliant.” His cheek. “Brighter than the sun.” His other cheek. “Hotter than it too.” His chin. “My inspiration.” He pecks Liam on the mouth and draws back so he can look him in the eye. “When do you get to know your grade?”

“She said they’d all be up by Friday.”

Zayn nods, mostly to himself. “How about this; I push back the reservations I made for tonight to Friday. If you did well, which you did, we’ll make it a celebration dinner. If you didn’t, I’ll bribe your professor to give you the A you deserve-”

_“Zayn-”_

“-and then we’ll stuff ourselves with overpriced pasta and lobster bisque anyway to celebrate you dropping out of school and finally agreeing to move in with me full time and become my trophy husband.”

Liam’s deadpan expression drops all too quickly as he lifts his hand to gently stroke Zayn’s face. “It’s amazing...” Liam awes.

“What is?” Zayn asks, feeling confused and a little smug at Liam’s reaction.

“That out of all the people the last of the romantics could’ve chosen...he chose me.”

“....you’re mocking me,” Zayn observes.

“Only a lot,” Liam shrugs.

Zayn presses a smile against the boy’s temple, not even attempting to act offended. “You have nothing to worry about,” he insists.

“Maybe...”

Zayn sighs. “Alright,” he suddenly quips, pushing Liam to his feet, but keeping steady hold of his hips. “I’ll let you be as anxious and as nervous about this as you want-”

“How modern of you.”

“-but _only_ on Friday. Until then, we push it from our minds and act like it doesn’t exist. Don’t let this ruin your first two days of freedom, please.” It’s been months since Zayn has seen his boyfriend’s smile reach his eyes as often as it should, since he hasn’t been glancing at his watch every time they go out, dividing the remaining time into uneven hours of sleep and work.

Liam quirks his mouth to the side, contemplating. “When you say overpriced pasta, just how many dishes are we talking?” he concedes.

Zayn grins like a fool in love instead of the sophisticated business man he supposedly is. “I’ll buy the whole damn restaurant if need be.”

Liam scrunches his nose. “Please don’t,” he begs, knowing full well it’ll probably end up happening anyway. His protests are always futile when Zayn’s in the mood to spoil him.

Zayn hums and restates, “if need be.” He stands up and brushes another kiss against Liam’s forehead before heading to his desk and busying himself with his computer. “You heading home?” he asks without looking away from his monitor.

“How long you gonna be?”

“A few hours,” Zayn says, which sounds like an apology.

Liam waves it off. “Then yea, I’ll head back. Maybe the walk will do me some good and clear my head up a bit.”

Zayn looks up this time. “Walk? Don’t be ridiculous. Have Harry call for a cab.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Zayn, it’s a fifteen minute walk to the apartment.”

“And it’s a five minute drive. Besides, I don’t want you walking around the city alone at this time of day.”

“...it’s two in the afternoon.”

“Liam.”

“Oh my god,” Liam groans, too drained to argue, “fine. But I need cab fare.”

“What happened to the allowance I gave you?” Zayn inquires, quirking an eyebrow accusingly.

“I spent it on Harry’s birthday present,” Liam lies quickly.

“Harry’s birthday was ten months ago,” Zayn catches easily. “Try again, sweetheart.”

Liam shuffles his feet, digging his toes into the plush red carpet he picked out to match the pillows on the couch. “Well, you see, I had to buy my own materials for the project-” Zayn sighs annoyedly “-you know, the one I’m emotionally distraught over. Fragile, even.”

“A project I would’ve happily bought the materials for so you didn’t have to waste your weekly allowance?”

“It’s not a waste if it’s for education,” Liam insists sternly, as if he is the elder and Zayn is the financially irresponsible one in need of a lecture. Zayn remains stagnant, so Liam brings out the big guns. He pushes out his bottom lip and looks at Zayn from under his lashes. “Please, daddy?”

Zayn glares at him, but pulls out his wallet anyway. He thumbs out a couple of bills and folds them neatly in half. He crooks his finger and Liam responds instantly, walking around the desk to stand in front of him. Zayn presses the wad of cash into Liam’s palm, who curls his fingers around it loosely. Zayn doesn’t let him go though, and instead tugs on Liam’s wrist, making the boy stumble into him.

“I hate it when you do that,” Zayn mumbles against Liam’s neck, where he’s nosing at the boy’s pulse. “Someone as sweet as you shouldn’t know how to play dirty.” He grazes his teeth over Liam’s adam’s apple, then nibbles right where Liam knows his birthmark to be. Zayn smirks against his skin when he hears Liam’s breath hitch.

Zayn detaches himself from Liam’s neck and sits back down at his desk, again easily occupying himself with one of a dozen manilla folders that are stacked next to his computer.

He reads the entire first page before he acknowledges his panting, bruising boyfriend who’s standing glassy eyed and flushed where Zayn left him.

Liam snaps out of his daze and looks down at the wad of cash in his hand. He doesn’t even need to count it to know it’s too much.

“Zayn,” he says warily, “it’s a taxi, not a limo.”

The older man shrugs, training his eyes back on his work. “Order takeout with the change. Treat yourself to a lazy day in. You’ve earned it.”

“I’m not buying $300 worth of spring rolls,” Liam deadpans, picking out the bill of smallest value and setting the rest next to Zayn’s keyboard.

“Liam-” Zayn starts.

“Nu uh,” Liam sing songs, already making a beeline for the door. Zayn watches his boyfriend slip out the door, his backpack hiked up high and his stupid polo tucked into his chinos, with exasperated endearment. He tucks the discarded cash back into his wallet and makes a note to have Harry push back his reservations.

*

“You do it.”

“Babe-”

“No, no, just look at it and tell me. Or don’t. Don’t tell me. Let me look- no, fuck, I can’t. You do it.”

Zayn sighs patiently. He’s got Liam in his lap again, this time they’re on Zayn’s couch in his living room. The younger boy is looking a bit green, and the hand that’s not clapped over his eyes is twitching with nerves.

Liam’s professor uploaded the grades for their final projects about two hours ago. And for two hours, Zayn has been patiently enduring Liam’s antsyness. For two hours he’s been smacked by flailing hands, has had the wind knocked out of him by a nervous elbow to the stomach, and has been verbally berated by an upset and anxious twenty year old, who immediately apologized for all.

Zayn scrolls down the alphabetical display until he gets to Liam’s name, and immediately starts laughing, his shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“What the f- are you _laughing?”_ Liam demands indignantly, and Zayn just _knows_ he’s glaring under that hand. It makes him laugh harder. “My entire college career is riding on this and you’re _laugh-_ that’s it. No matter how this turns out, I’m breaking up with you. We’re done. Over. Finito. See who’ll lie to Louis and say that you’re sick when he wants to go out now. I’m taking the dog with me.”

Zayn snorts and pries Liam’s hand away from his face.

“No- Zayn I don’t want to see-”

 _“Yes,”_ Zayn insists, “you do.”

Zayn presses his mouth to Liam’s shoulder as the boy stares at the screen, taking it in. He smiles when he sees bottom lip start to wobble, and pulls him closer to his chest. “I told you. Brilliant. Brighter than the sun.”

“Your inspiration,” Liam sniffs, although his eyes are dry. “Christ, a ninety-five.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe what the computer is telling him. He freezes suddenly, and turns to look suspiciously at the man behind him. “You didn’t...”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “No, Liam, I didn’t bribe your teacher to give you a good grade. You earned it, fair and square. And for the record, if I did pay for your grade, it’d be a high B at the most. I have tact.”

Liam snorts, snapping the laptop shut and twisting around until he’s straddling Zayn, his smile brighter and more playful than it’s been in weeks and goodness _gracious_ is Zayn completely gone for him.

“So,” Liam says slowly, fingers tangling in the hair Zayn’s grown down to his shoulders.

“So?” Zayn repeats, hands coyly finding their way to Liam’s lower back.

“I think I was promised ridiculous amounts of ridiculous priced pasta...”

“You think?”

“I know,” Liam affirms just as a low rumbling sound fills the air. “And so does my stomach.”

“Smooth.”

“One of us has to be. Now take me out and woo me. I’m a straight-A student.”

Zayn snorts. “ _Straight_.” He cuts off the banter there, sliding his hands under Liam’s thighs and standing up with him still in his arms.

“You’ve already got a job, ya know,” Liam complains. “Why not let my legs do theirs?”

Zayn drops him on the bed, then crawls on top of him, caging him in. He leans down till his mouth his next to the boy’s ear. “Because I want all your energy saved up for tonight when that tight ass of yours rides me dry.”

Safe to say that Liam’s a little offended when Zayn decides to drop it there, pushing up off the bed and heading to the wardrobe like nothing happened, like he _didn't_ just get Liam half hard and bail. He’s about to speak up about Zayn’s terrible rudeness when he sees the box in Zayn’s hands. He knows that box.

“You are so not buying your way out of what you just did with clothes.”

Zayn smirks, looking from the ruffled boy to the white, rectangular box he’s holding. “Withhold judgment until you see said clothes, maybe?”

Liam narrows his eyes at his boyfriend, then at the box. Damn it all if Zayn didn’t always pick out the best things, though. Fuck. “Fine,” he begrudgingly agrees.

Zayn smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges, and Liam’s heart skips like it’s his first time seeing that smile and not the thousandth. Zayn sets the box in front of Liam, smushes a kiss to his curls and then heads back into the living room, reminding the boy that their reservations are in an hour.

Liam figures he’s got enough time for a shower, so he undresses and promptly puts his clothes in the hamper, as well as a pair of Zayn’s boxers that were strewn carelessly on the floor. And _he’s_ the irresponsible one? Honestly.

He keeps his shower brief, occasionally headbanging to a song no one but himself can hear. Liam loves showering at Zayn’s; he loves the glorious pressure settings and the open aired bathroom suite and the smell of Zayn’s bodywash. It’s a weakness of his that his boyfriend shamelessly exploits in order to keep him there as long as possible. Liam doesn’t even remember what the communal showers back at his dorm are like. He doesn’t care to, really.

He dries off quickly and retrieves a pair of his own chinos and a pair of Zayn’s briefs, slipping them on under his towel.

Despite himself, Liam is buzzing when he slides the dark green bow off of the box. That buzzing dies almost instantly, and is replaced instead with a warm, soft thrum of affection, humming just below his skin.

The sweater is the knitted style cream colored embodiment of winter, if Liam had to describe it. It’s snowy days spent making poorly executed but well intentioned gingerbread houses. It’s soft rugs in front of fireplaces, book in one hand and hot chocolate in the other. The sweater is everything Liam loves about the holiday season, everything he wants to share with Zayn.

He smiles to himself as he slips it over his head, shaking out his curls once it’s on. He laces up his favorite pair of boots and throws the empty box and discarded bow away before walking into the living room.

Zayn’s waiting down the hall by the door, thumbs tapping away on his phone, no doubt getting in last minute work details to Harry before he heads home. He looks up when Liam clears his throat.

Zayn smiles softly at what he sees; his boy is clearly happy with his little gift, the sleeves of the sweater hanging past his knuckles, the bows on those god awful knockoff brand boots entirely uneven. “C’mere,” he murmurs, opening his arms.

Liam fits right into the spot Zayn’s made for him, wrapping his arms around his waist snugly. “Thank you, daddy,” he says softly.

“Of course, baby. Anything for you.” Zayn takes a gracious moment to hold Liam closer, nosing his mostly dry hair smiling at the smell of his own bodywash. “Come on, then. Don’t want to keep the staff waiting.”

“Oh god,” Liam groans as Zayn tugs him out of the apartment and down the hall. “You didn’t buy the place, did you?”

“No,” Zayn scoffs. “I did not _buy_ the place, Liam. Honestly.”

Liam accepts his answer and lets the drive to the restaurant go by in peace. A peace that is broken once they step inside said restaurant and Liam sees that the room is completely empty, save a waiter and a host.

“You said you didn’t buy it,” Liam hisses as the host briskly makes his way over to them to take Zayn’s coat.

“Never said I didn’t rent it out for the night though, did I darling?” he hums unconcernedly. Liam is important. Zayn is going to make sure he knows it.

Dinner is, as Liam could’ve predicted, amazing. He and Zayn each order three different pasta dishes, which is insane because who even knows that many kinds of pasta? He wonders if someone could like, major in pasta. He’ll look into that.

Later. He’ll look into that later, because right now the most pressing issue is the pressure Zayn’s foot is making on his leg.

“Stop it,” he says.

Zayn smirks and slouches in his seat, which probably has less to do with bad posture and more with his foot having more slack to inch up Liam’s calf. “Stop what, babe?”

“I thought I was the kid in this relationship. Shouldn’t I be the one to initiate a round of footsie?”

Zayn just continues to smirk and his toes along the inseam of Liam’s chinos, gently pressing across his dick before retreating. He runs that same path over and over again about four times before Liam’s reached his tipping point.

“Daddy,” he whines, _“please.”_

Zayn drops his smirk and calls for the check.

*

Zayn hasn’t let go of Liam since he hauled him out of his seat at the restaurant. In the car he keeps Liam close to his side, their thighs aligned and pressed together the whole time. He holds Liam’s hand when they walk into the complex, then tucks it into the back pocket of Liam’s chinos when they get into the elevator.

He starts ridding himself of his clothes as soon as the door is shut, going agonizingly slow and making Liam watch every second of it. “Yours too, sweetheart,” Zayn says when he steps out of his pants, kicking them off to the side.

Liam nods emphatically and follows by example. Zayn makes an appreciative noise and Liam blushes, remembering whose underwear he’s got on. He brings cold numbed fingers to the hem of his sweater, looking dejected when Zayn tuts. “Keep it on,” he grunts.

It makes Liam smile, seeing his boyfriend unravel just at the sight of him. Liam leers at Zayn, high on his power trip, and shuffles backwards toward the bedroom. Zayn doesn’t let their eye contact break as he follows blindly, pupils blown and dick standing shamelessly at attention.

Liam hardly notices when he backs into the bed, knees buckling and body falling backwards. He feels the cushion of the mattress give way to his weight, then even more so when Zayn climbs on top of him, putting them in a position delightfully similar to earlier that day. Zayn leans down and kisses him softly once, maybe twice if a whispered _I love you_ can be counted as intimate.

Zayn gently urges Liam to lift his hips, and slides a hand under Liam's ass to help hold him up as he arranges pillows underneath him. Then he trails kisses down the side of Liam's face, across his jaw, down the curve of his neck, to the slope of his shoulder, to the flat expanse of his chest. He pauses at Liam's pecs, flicking his tongue out over one nipple until it furls up tight, and then he bares his teeth and nibbles gently.

Zayn ignores the impatient sounds that are spilling out of Liam’s mouth and takes his sweet time. While Zayn continues his assault on the boy’s chest, Liam reaches up and grabs the bottle of lube from under the pillows, even going so far as to open it hoping Zayn will just get the fucking message.

He does indeed get the fucking message and decides to take mercy on his boyfriend, slicking up his hand with practiced ease. He starts with one finger, as he's grazing over Liam’s right nipple, with just enough lube to mean that it slides inside easily; then a second finger as he's mouths over the planes of Liam's stomach, making the muscles shift and contract; then three fingers as he grazes his teeth over the soft skin of Liam's navel.

He's up to four fingers by the time he get Liam's cock in his mouth. Liam is keening in his throat by this point, gasping for air and bucking his hips as he begs wordlessly for Zayn to take more of him, and slide down as far as he can until Liam's cock disappears between his lips.

Instead, he hikes up Liam’s leg and flips them, reveling in the soft huff Liam gives before reaching behind him and guiding Zayn’s dick to his hole. The head pops in, and another breath is being punched from Liam’s lungs.

Liam looks down with those wide eyes that never fail to enchant him, breath coming in gasps as he sinks onto Zayn, inch by inch. Zayn groans and falls back against the plush pillows, watching through blown eyes as the younger boy finally settles, his ass flush against Zayn’s hips.

“Christ, baby, look at you,” Zayn breathes out. “So fucking sweet, taking it like such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Liam preens at the praise and plants his hands against Zayn’s chest, panting as he rolls his hips, making sure his daddy feels it, feels every inch of him surrounded by hot, tight heat. Zayn grips the sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white with the force. He’s determined to let Liam set the pace.

Liam can feel the drag of Zayn’s cock inside him, sparking a sensation that he immediately wants more of.

“Go on, baby,” Zayn goads, “bounce on daddy’s cock. Show me how good you are.”

Using the hands he’s got on the man’s chest as leverage, he rolls his hips forward again, harder, smears of precome catching on the threaded designs of his sweater. He needs it deeper though, just a little something more till he would be seeing stars. He starts lifting up as much as he can before sinking back down on Zayn’s cock, his thighs burning from the effort, but _fuck_ is it worth it.

He’s just working himself into a good rhythm, completely lost in the feel of Zayn pressing inside him and the sounds made between them, when Zayn sits up. He crushes his mouth to Liam’s to muffle his protests. He wraps his arms around the smaller boy and bucks up, hard, fast and deep, brushing that place inside Liam that has him stuttering out pleas for more. His nails rake lines of red down Zayn’s back, his cock trapped between his sweater and Zayn’s naked stomach, the friction almost too much but not nearly enough.

Zayn has his face buried into Liam’s shoulder, his grunts and groans mingling with Liam’s pleas and babbling. Zayn’s hand snakes into Liam’s sweaty curls and wrenches his head to the side so he can leave a mix of sweet, soft kisses and vicious bites along the exposed skin of the boy’s neck, leaving marks that feel like a brand.

 _“Daddy,”_ Liam breathes as he comes, untouched cock spilling between them. He starts to feel lightheaded as Zayn sucks another bruise onto the front of Liam’s throat. The next “daddy” comes out as more of a whine, making Zayn’s thrusts become erratic and his grip move down to Liam’s slim hips, holding to the tight as he fucks into the boy. Zayn curses when he comes, shooting his load inside the tight heat of Liam’s ass.

They both sit there for a while, sweaty foreheads pressed together, trying to catch their breath.

Liam’s the first to move, pushing at a loose limbed Zayn until he’s laying back down. They both groan when Zayn’s cock slips out, followed by a trail of come. Liam pays the mess no mind, stripping off his sweater and discarding it on the floor. He rolls off of his boyfriend and curls up next to him, content to lay there with his head on Zayn’s chest, drawing lines between the half-crescent indents his fingernails made.

“We ruined my sweater,” Liam informs the room at large.

Zayn spares the come-stained garment a tired glance before pulling Liam on top of him and wrapping his arms around the boy’s blessedly naked waist. He hums and licks a stripe over his handiwork on Liam’s throat like a seal. “I’ll buy you a new one,” he promises.

 

**Author's Note:**

> one day i'll edit all the CHEESE out of this
> 
> [follow me on tumblr im kinda funny sometimes](http://spani5h.tumblr.com)


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